When Madeline Hammond stepped from the train at El Cajon, New Mexico, it was nearly midnight, and her first impression was of a huge dark space of cool, windy emptiness, strange and silent, stretching away under great blinking white stars. Miss, there's no one to meet you, said the conductor, rather anxiously. I wired my brother, she replied. "The train being so late - perhaps he grew tired of waiting. He will be here presently. But, if he should not come - surely I can find a hotel?" There's lodgings to be had. Get the station agent to show you. If you'll excuse me - this is no place for a lady like you to be alone at night. It's a rough little town - mostly Mexicans, miners, cowboys. And they carouse a lot. Besides, the revolution across the border has stirred up some excitement along the line.
